


Joe's Amazing Technicolor Underwear

by emungere



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crossdressing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-10
Updated: 2004-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 22:20:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2749241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emungere/pseuds/emungere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joe gets dressed in the dark and puts on Riley's undies by mistake. </p>
<p>Written for <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/4th_and_austin/"><strong>4th_and_austin</strong></a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Joe's Amazing Technicolor Underwear

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to hibem for the beta.

There was a phone ringing in Joe's dream. It was going to be some insurance salesman when he picked it up, so he didn't. He tried to listen to what the mushroom people were telling him about the nature of the universe and why he should get the red rug and drapes, but the damn phone kept ringing. 

He struggled into consciousness with the mushroom people still whispering to him about curtains and genocide. He had to remember to tell Donny. No more fucking mushrooms for dinner. There was enough fungus in their fridge without buying it on purpose.

He groped for the phone, failed to find it, rolled off the couch, and groped again. Where the hell were Donny and Riley? Oh, yeah. Work. Ugh.

His hand finally connected with the phone, and he held it to his ear.

"'Lo?" he said, voice rusty from less than five hours of sleep.

"Still in bed?" Len asked.

"I kinda fell out looking for the phone."

Len laughed softly. "I'm so sorry to wake you."

Joe smiled to himself and curled up on his side, head cushioned on a pile of laundry. "Yeah, right. Aren't you supposed be at work or something, slacker?"

"As it happens, I have today free."

"Oh, yeah?" Joe got his eyes open, blinking in the dim light from the window. This sounded like something to be awake for. "Anything in particular you wanted to do?"

"You," Len said. "In half an hour. Please be punctual."

He hung up.

Something in his voice, as always, had Joe up and moving before he could think. Five minutes to shower--and he really needed one--five minutes to dress, twenty minutes to walk to Len's. He could just make it.

He stumbled into the shower, feeling his cock harden with the touch of soap-slick hands and the memory of Len's voice. Dark and low, and it was damn presumptuous of the man to expect that Joe would just drop his plans and come running, but fuck if he wasn't right. Hell, right now he couldn't even remember if he'd _had_ plans.

He dried off quickly, skin reddened from the rough towel, hard-on not the least bit discouraged. He rubbed at his hair until it stood up in spikes and went to dig through the clean laundry basket in Donny's closet.

The one light-bulb was out, but a quick grope through the basket produced a pair of briefs. They had to be his, tight as they seemed when he pulled them on. Riley and Donny always wore boxers.

He pulled on his jeans from yesterday. Tank top, boots, wallet, keys, out the door. He checked the clock as he left. Less than twenty minutes to go. He walked quickly, wondering what exactly Len had in mind for today and cursing the remnants of his persistant hard-on. The damn underwear was _definitely_ too tight.

He jogged the last block and made it with one minute to spare. The doorman gave him a dirty look as he ran for the elevator, but he was on the list, and the jerk knew it. Two minutes later, after finding out some brat had pushed all the buttons in the elevator, he knocked on Len's door.

The door opened. "You're late," Len said.

He'd been planning to say it wasn't his fault, but Len was wearing grey silk pajama bottoms and nothing else, and by the time he remembered how to talk, it was too late. Len had hauled him inside and pushed him up against the door.

Len's mouth was hot against his neck, licking over his Adam's apple, sucking hard just under his jaw. Joe spread his hands over Len's back, feeling the shift of muscles, and skin faintly cool from the air conditioning. He shivered, goose bumps pricking his arms, hands sliding easily under loose elastic to cup Len's ass and hold him close.

Len bit gently at his throat and laughed when he tipped his head back, sucking even harder. Joe panted and stared up at the ceiling and thought his knees might give out.

Cool hands warmed as they slid down Joe's arms and caught his wrists, pulling them up and pinning them against the door. Len's leg slid between his thighs and nudged them apart. Len smiled, ran a thumb over the patch of skin he'd been sucking.

"I was going to give you one for every minute you were late. I was expecting at least five."

"Sorry to disappoint," Joe gasped. He was making a truly heroic effort not to hump Len's leg. He couldn't be expected to keep his voice steady, too.

"Oh, I'm not disappointed." Len kissed him softly, lips, cheek, temple, the corner of his mouth. He shifted his grip on Joe's wrists so he could hold them with one hand and started working on Joe's jeans.

He arched and strained against Len's hold, moaning when Len's knuckles brushed him through his underwear.

Then everything stopped.

He groaned. "Len, come on, don't mess around..."

"What are you wearing?" Len's voice was careful. He was looking down.

Joe followed his gaze down his own open fly. He stared.

Pink. They weren't just tight, they were fucking _pink_. Fucking pink cotton with a little pink _bow_.

"They're not mine. I swear." Len's mouth was twitching. "Don't laugh, you bastard!" Too late.

Len let go of his wrists and covered his mouth with his hand, head bent, shoulders shaking.

"I'm gonna kill her," Joe muttered.

"For having pink panties?" Len asked, only slightly breathless with laughter. "She is a teenage girl."

"For--for leaving them around like that!"

"Did you get dressed in the dark?"

"The light-bulb was out! Where's your phone?"

"What?"

Joe spotted it on the table, grabbed it, and dialed.

"Hello?" Riley said.

Joe realized how stupid this was, but it was too late to stop himself. "Why the hell do you have girly underwear, and why was it in my laundry?"

" _What?_ Why are you looking at my underwear, you pervert?"

Len, thankfully, took the phone away from him and disconnected the call. He was still smirking. He stepped behind Joe and wrapped an arm around his waist, kissed the back of his neck. "And here I thought perhaps you'd worn them for me," he murmured.

"You...what? I... Um..." Joe's mouth kept talking until Len covered it briefly with his hand.

"Hush," he said. "Take your clothes off. I want a better view." He pushed Joe forward a step and leaned against the table, watching.

Joe kicked off his boots and peeled his tank top off over his head. His hands rested at the waistband of his jeans, and he stopped, torn between _Oh, fuck, I'm wearing girl's underwear_ and _Oh, god, Len's watching me strip._

"I'm sorry," Len said mildly. "Did I tell you to stop?" His head was tilted to one side, corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement.

Joe hooked his thumbs inside both jeans and underwear, starting to pull them down.

"Ah," Len said. "Just the jeans, please. Leave the panties on."

Panties. Jesus fucking _Christ_.

He skimmed out of his jeans and kicked them away, trying not to look down. This was ridiculous.

Len sank into a chair and crooked a finger at him.

Joe moved to stand between his spread legs and was pulled quickly closer.

Len bent to nuzzle at the bulge in his underwear. "Hands behind your back, please," he said.

Joe clasped his hands behind his back, and Len squeezed his hip in approval.

"Good boy." Slow drag of lips up the underside of his cock, barely felt through the cotton. He kissed the tip, where a spot of wetness was starting to soak through the fabric. "You look very pretty in them."

"I'm not _pretty_ \--"

But Len was licking him through the fabric now, soaking it so it stuck to his skin, and he couldn't find the mental strength to argue, to do anything but concentrate on staying upright.

Len kissed his stomach, fingers stroking up and up his cock until the head pushed just past the elastic.

"Pink is a good color for you."

"Goddamn it, Len, will you just--"

Len licked across the head of his cock and looked up at him. "They match your cheeks. You're all flushed." He smiled. "Or are you blushing?" His hand cupped Joe's cheek briefly and then slid down his neck, over his chest, pinching a nipple gently. "I'm not sure I've ever seen you blush before. I'll have to thank Riley."

"Don't you dare."

Len just kept smiling and bent his head again, licking and then sucking at the head of his cock until Joe couldn't stop the sounds he was making. Little moans and gasps and sighs as his hips rocked forward, pushing against Len's mouth.

One more lick, and Len stood up, kissing him quickly. "It's a pity I can't fuck you while you're wearing them. I want you bent over the table, please. I'll be back in a minute."

Joe stepped towards the table, laying himself down over it, hands still clasped behind his back. He felt almost dizzy with the need to come, just jerk off fast and hard, he could do it before Len got back easy... But he didn't, and then Len was back, pressed against him and whispering in his ear.

"I've been thinking about this all morning." And his slicked fingers slid under the elastic and down between his cheeks, pressing against his opening.

"You could take them _off_ ," he said, and he didn't know why it still surprised him that Len could make him sound like that. Breathless, voice as close to breaking as it had been since he was fifteen. "Any fucking time now."

Len said nothing, bent low so his hair brushed Joe's cheek, so his breath heated the back of Joe's neck.

"Hush." Len's mouth was so hot, sucking at the nape of his neck with a hint of teeth.

Joe shivered and pressed back against him. One finger had become two, working him open, stretching him, and he could feel the elastic waistband digging into hip as the cotton was pulled even tighter by the added bulk of Len's hand. His cock, trapped between skin and damp fabric, ached.

He reached down, cupping himself, but that was as far as he got. Len took his wrist and pressed his palm flat against the table. Joe laid his cheek on the table top and tried not to whimper. He could see the reflection of his own eye in the lacquered surface, looking back at him, so close it blurred.

Len fingered him steadily, methodically, sometimes curving just right, going deep enough to make him moan, sometimes just missing the mark. He squirmed and tried to push back, but Len's weight held him still. There was nothing to do but take it.

"Len...Len, Jesus, c'mon...you're gonna have to take them off eventually..."

"I suppose you're right."

The fingers withdrew, and Joe felt hands at his waist, fingers hooking under the waistband of the underwear-- _finally_ \--and then stopping.

"Or maybe I won't," Len murmured. "Stay there."

His warmth and weight disappeared, and Joe looked over his shoulder. Len had picked up his discarded jeans and was looking through the pockets...pulling out his pocket knife. Oh, shit.

"Len--" _You cannot be fucking serious._

Len's hand spread out on his back. "Just hold still."

He never felt a hint of the knife blade, just the slightly cooler air and then Len's large, warm hands spreading him open. Len's cock, pushing into him a little too fast, fast enough to make him gasp and bite his lip, fast enough to hurt, just a little. Just enough.

With the tension of the fabric released, Len's hand fit easily down the front of the panties, closing around Joe's cock and just holding, thumb sliding over the head in time with his slow thrusts.

This was how he would die someday, Joe was sure. Someday, it would be too much, and he'd die with Len fucking him, torturously slow, and the last thing he'd hear would be Len's voice whispering the fucking _filthiest_ things in his ear.

"Lovely," Len said. "The way you move, the way your body twists to get more. Should I just hold still and let you fuck yourself on my cock, Joe? Would you like that?" He licked Joe's ear, bit gently at the side of his neck.

Joe pressed his forehead against the table and clutched at the edge, hands sliding on the slick surface.

Len squeezed his cock lightly. "So hard. Move, Joe. I know you want to."

His hips rocked forward, sliding his cock through Len's fist, and then he couldn't stop. He jerked himself back, body tightening around Len's cock, thrust forward, rubbing against Len's hand. He was panting, his movements uncoordinated, too turned on to find the rhythm that would let him finish.

He felt more than heard Len's soft laughter, and then Len took over, fucking him faster, hard enough that each thrust pushed him forward into Len's hand. Thumb sliding up the underside, over the head, Len's mouth sucking at the side of his neck, strangled noise from his throat as he came hard, breathing steam on the black lacquer and seeing the pale blur of Len's face reflected next to his own.

Len's breath hitched, and his arm slid around Joe's chest, fingers digging into his shoulder. He panted against Joe's neck for four more sharp thrusts, and Joe felt him come, felt the heat and the loosening of the tense body pressed against him.

Len sank down over him, one hand sliding up into his hair, the other still loosely wrapped around his cock.

"Fuck," Joe breathed.

Len's silent laughter shook both of them. "You really do have a way with words."

Len straightened up and pulled out, which was just as well. He was heavy, and the table was digging into Joe's stomach.

Joe braced himself and stood, knees week. He looked down. There were smears of white on the table, and the panties were a dead loss.

"Riley's going to kill me. Can I take these fucking things off now?" He peeled them off without waiting for an answer, wiping himself clean with them.

Len took a handful of tissues and cleaned himself up, pulling his pajama bottoms back up from around his thighs.

"We'll get her a replacement after breakfast. Omelets?"

"Yes," Joe said immediately. Like he'd say no to anything Len wanted to cook. "Wait, what? I am not going shopping for girls' underwear."

"If you insist, we can probably find something for her online."

Joe relaxed. "That sounds like a better idea."

"I just thought the store would be more efficient. Since we'll be going anyway."

"Huh?"

"Well, these clearly aren't your size." Len took them from him and tossed them in the trash. "You'll have to try them on. I want you to be comfortable, after all."

Joe pointed a finger at him. "Len, no. I mean it."

Len just smiled at him and went to make omelets.

Joe sighed. Somehow no was going to turn into yes, and he suspected yes was going to turn into a blow-job in the fitting room.

"Joe? Come and grate the cheese?"

He pulled his jeans back on and went to grate the cheese. Hell, what was he doing complaining about a blow-job, no matter where it happened?


End file.
